


Happiness

by accioserotonin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, depressed character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioserotonin/pseuds/accioserotonin
Summary: “For the moment I am really very, very tired of everything- more than tired.”-Friedrich Nietzsche
Relationships: Harry Potter/Reader
Kudos: 12





	Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Heavy Angst, Mentions of Neglect and Abuse, Depression, Feelings of Worthlessness, What could be interpreted as suicidal thinking

Harry James Potter was a peculiar boy of no-more-than sixteen. His appearance, save from a jagged scar on his forehead, betrayed none of this. He was, generally speaking, quite average looking. Average height, average weight, and, his hair, despite occasionally defying gravity, was a rather common shade of black. His eyes, the most striking of his features, were a deep shade of emerald green; breathtaking conduits for the depth of his emotions. They alone came closest to indicating just how strange the boy truly was. 

His childhood was marred by abuse and neglect. Where a child should be surrounded by nothing but love and support, he was treated wholly as an outcast. Orphaned at an early age, his Aunt and Uncle spared him no kindness, forcing him to eat table scraps and sleep in a cupboard, depriving him of all affection. He was made to believe he was less-than, made to believe he was nothing. It wasn’t until his eleventh birthday that he learned the truth; he was a wizard, an incredibly famous one. Aged only one, he had seemingly defeated the most powerful dark wizard the world had ever seen, and it only cost him his parents and his childhood. 

He cared little for the fame, but was entirely taken by the freedom and the happiness his new life afforded him. He could eat as much as he wanted, straight from the table, he could laugh loudly, take up space, make friends. Except...Except there are two sides to every coin, and his was continuously flipping. 

It mattered little that he was still only a child, he was simultaneously burdened with the hope of happiness and of responsibility; asked continuously for more. At first the price did not seem too high, not for what he had finally been given, a chance. But as the years stretched on the weight of responsibility began to bow his back; it was not enough to face Voldemort in his first year, nor his second, not enough to feel the bloom of pure hope in his third only to have it ripped away moments later. It was not enough to be forced into a competition he had no interest in, to watch his schoolmate die, at fourteen. It was not enough to feel abandoned by the only people he could truly call family, to watch the man that represented the only father he’d ever known, leave him at fifteen. It was never enough. 

He could give, and give, and give and it wouldn’t make any difference. People would continue to die for him, evil would continue to bloom, and he would continue to be pushed towards the edge, the very one he was teetering on now. 

The one reprieve from the dark curtain that threatened to consume him entirely were the moments of pure, unadulterated joy that slipped through like rays of sunshine on an endlessly cloudy day. But he couldn’t help but wonder, did he even deserve that? Did he deserve the fulfillment he received from flying? The warmth of the Weasley home? The support of his best friends? You, did he even deserve you? 

At some point along the way he had fallen in love with you, helplessly so, in the way that only those in their youth are able. He dared to dream of a day where together you could simply be. One day it would finally be enough, he would finally be enough, and everything would change. He would be able to lay his responsibilities down and not worry about the next bend in the road. Except...Except he had finally come to realize the common thread in his misfortune, the one that when pulled would unravel the whole thing. 

Himself. 

He was the reason his parents had died, Cedric, Sirius… He was the reason his friends' lives were so often in danger, the reason yours would inevitably be. Even if he managed to defeat Voldemort, he knew now it would never be enough. He could never be enough. 

He had been continuously tasked with saving the wizarding world and maybe that’s all he was ever really meant to do, to act as a sacrificial lamb whose death would have more meaning and bring more peace than his life ever could. 

He couldn’t save himself, but he could save his loved ones, he could save you. How he so desperately hoped to be your happy ending, but he realized now he never could be. He was more used to pain than love anyway, so he would let you go, no matter how it shattered his heart, and he would deal with the familiar ache. He would fight, and he would die when needed, and he would hope that with his sacrifice his loved ones would find true happiness, the likes of which he was never allowed. 

**Author's Note:**

> I think this could be read as a stand alone, but it was my original intent to have this be a two or three chapter story that ends on a significantly less angsty note, but I don’t know if I should expand on it or leave as is. I find Harry to be an incredibly interesting, complex, character that is often ruled by his baser emotions and whose ability to keep moving forward despite everything he went through defies all odds and expectations. He was also incredibly wronged by many of the adults in his life, and deserved to have his depression and abuse acknowledged.  
> Feedback never expected, but immensely appreciated!


End file.
